


Night Mirrors

by meliorismel



Category: SHINee
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, But not too sad, It's really not that sad, M/M, Sexual Content, also bisexual, jonghyun young and rich, just bummie trying to figure some things out, kibum is your resident sad boy, slight overuse of the word hyung but its purposeful, sort of???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meliorismel/pseuds/meliorismel
Summary: Kibum is a quick study, though he guesses Jonghyun might be quicker.
Relationships: Kim Jonghyun/Kim Kibum | Key
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Night Mirrors

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to shinee ficdom after three years and I just want to say how incredibly happy I am to be back. 
> 
> Thank you Jane for encouraging me as I wrote this :)
> 
> I hope yall enjoy

Kibum looks at Jonghyun’s back and he feels an itching in his arm to reach out, to touch, to curl his fingers around Jonghyun’s bare shoulder and feel the heat of his skin that’s always a few degrees too warm.

He doesn’t. He never does. Not when they’ve drawn clear lines and set boundaries. Or, at least, Kibum has drawn clear lines and set boundaries for what he believes is acceptable behavior after stumbling their way into a bed, any bed—his, Jonghyun’s, the shitty motel’s with the receptionist who doesn’t ask questions but always checks them in with tight lips and short sentences. 

It’s usually late at night when Kibum receives a text that’s short and straight to the point, always a different variation of,

_can I suck ur dick?_

To which he replies in the affirmative more often than not. Too often. His fingers move to type a response quicker than his brain has time to think of anything other than,

 _of course hyung_

He’s in Jonghyun’s bed now, tangled in Jonghyun’s sheets, with Jonghyun’s scent crowding him from all sides. He used to think he wouldn’t mind suffocating in the light musk of Jonghyun’s perfume, would think about stealing a bottle or two to keep at his apartment and spray into the air when he could no longer smell Jonghyun in the threads of his fabric.

He never does. Instead he’ll take a shirt or two, Jonghyun’s favorite sweater, a blanket. One day, when the urge was particularly strong, Kibum managed to walk out of Jonghyun’s apartment with a pillow (or two) and a Charmander plushie. That was four months ago and Jonghyun hasn’t brought it up at all. Not even the slightest mention when they’re fucking on Kibum’s couch and Charmander sits on the mantle directly in Jonghyun’s line of sight. 

It could mean that Jonghyun is fine with it all. With Kibum needing and wanting and reaching for things just within his grasp—never touching. 

The illusion is sustained.

It could also mean that Jonghyun has little attachment to his belongings and could care less whether his plushie was somewhere beneath his bed or tucked tight between Kibum’s arms as he slept at night, the light musk slowly fading into lavender. 

Mirages in the form of night terrors.

Either way, Kibum wishes Jonghyun would turn around in his sleep, face him, hold him. Just once. 

He doesn’t. 

/

Jonghyun barely makes it past the threshold before he’s pinning Kibum against the wall, licking into his mouth, hard and rough. The wall is cold against the bare skin of Kibum’s back, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from Jonghyun’s hands tracing familiar patterns along his torso. Jonghyun brings with him the rush of the city, hardly stopping for breath as he kisses with too much teeth, too much tongue, too much of something Kibum isn’t quite sure he knows how to reciprocate. 

Still, Kibum welcomes the sense of urgency, the crudeness. It’s been two weeks since he last felt Jonghyun’s body pressed against his, since he last got to tangle his hands in his hair and pull. The whine Jonghyun lets out is high and needy and Kibum is glad to give him a taste of what it feels to want something— _someone_ —so much it overrides any sense of coherent sanity. Kibum wants Jonghyun on his knees. Wants him to beg. 

Kibum extends his arm, forcing Jonghyun to bare his neck and hold it. Jonghyun’s hands dig into Kibum’s side, but he waits. Pliant. Needy. 

“Take off your shoes,” Kibum instructs, and as Jonghyun makes the first move to toe off his boots, Kibum brings him closer. The musk is already starting to mess with his mind, but he buries his face into the crook of Jonghyun’s neck just to torture himself.

“Fuck, why do you always smell so good.” So intoxicating. If Jonghyun were a cocktail, Kibum would get drunk on it every night if he could. Drink his fill till he didn’t have to worry about where his next fix would come from. Didn’t have to worry about where Jonghyun would get his. 

They’re both confident, hot. Not exclusive. And what that means is that while Kibum spent the past two weeks getting reacquainted with his favorite dildos, Jonghyun has probably been bar hopping on nights he wasn’t forced to stay late at the office. Kibum doesn’t want to think about Jonghyun with other people. He doesn’t want to imagine how Jonghyun would look on his knees, sucking another man’s cock, or buried to the hilt in some female. 

For a moment, Kibum gives in to the possessiveness and mouths at the skin just beneath Jonghyun’s ear before making his way across to his adam’s apple. Marking. Claiming. Jonghyun moans, maybe he says Kibum’s name once. Kibum can’t hear him over his own guttural confessions. _Mine. Mine. You’re mine._

Then Jonghyun’s fingers are digging into Kibum’s ass, hoisting him up till Kibum has to wrap his legs around his waist. Kibum likes when Jonghyun reminds him of how strong he is—how easy it is for him to toss Kibum around like a rag doll. His doll. _His_.

Kibum’s hands slip from Jonghyun’s hair to rest on his shoulders as Jonghyun takes a nipple in his mouth. Kibum arches off the wall and into Jonghyun’s chest.

“Shit, hyung.”

Kibum has always been sensitive, but after two weeks he’s reached a different level of impatience. And, god, Jonghyun’s mouth. It’s so hot, so wet, the smell of peppermint and soju still heavy in his breath. Kibum throws his head back and whines. 

Jonghyun pulls back, lips red and plush. So wet. His eyes dark and pupils blown. So hot. Kibum’s skin burns where Jonghyun sucks hickeys into his chest. 

“Here. I want you here,” he says as his hands grip Kibum’s ass tighter, pulls him impossibly closer. Kibum grinds against Jonghyun, unable to answer with his words, just needing, needing, needing to feel something against his cock already straining in his pants. 

Kibum wants to tell him no, that in the very least they could walk the few steps to the couch just out of view. 

He doesn’t.

Instead he wraps his arms around Jonghyun’s neck, licks his lips and says,

“Make sure I can’t walk tomorrow.”

/

Kibum’s bed is larger than Jonghyun’s, which means there’s more space between them when Jonghyun slips beneath the sheets and turns to face the wall, away from Kibum. His bare back a perfect complement to Kibum’s stark white sheets. 

And so are the scratch marks Kibum made sure to leave etched into his skin so he could admire them after—admire them now. 

They’re the next best thing to the red of Jonghyun’s lips. The red he can’t see. 

/

Kibum wakes up the next morning and expects the soreness, the ache in his lower back that reminds him how good it feels to be used.

The illusion is sustained.

He doesn’t expect to open his eyes and see another pair staring back at him. 

He blinks and Jonghyun is still there, still looking at him—the corner of his pretty pink lips slightly upturned, his eyes reflecting the scattered light shining through the curtains Kibum rarely bothers to close.

“G’morning,” Jonghyun whispers, voice gruff with sleep and the aftermath of choking on Kibum’s dick. 

Kibum must still be dreaming. But no, the legs tangled with his own are solid, and the hand brushing hair away from his face is warm. It’s then he realizes they’re touching, everywhere—the space between them almost nonexistent. Even their breathing has synced. 

Mirages in the form of night terrors. 

Kibum releases Jonghyun’s other hand (he must’ve grabbed it in his sleep) and reaches out to pinch Jonghyun’s cheek. He flinches as if it’s his own when Jonghyun lets out a soft _ow._

He’s not dreaming. 

Kibum shifts so he no longer feels the hardness of Jonghyun’s boner against his thigh, immediately lamenting the loss of heat. 

“Your face,” he starts, then stops, not really sure what he was going to say. 

This—this is something they don’t do. An unspoken rule created when Jonghyun made sure to leave before Kibum woke the first night they did this. Kibum was okay with it then—he’s no stranger to one-night stands and how they work, what’s expected of him. But then it happened again, the fucking, the leaving, the texting.

_want u to fuck me_

_of course hyung_

_i wanna taste you_

_of course hyung_

_come over now_

_of course hyung_

This—this is new, something Kibum never expected from Jonghyun and he can’t tell if the furrow in Jonghyun’s brow is because he’s upset or confused. Maybe both.

There’s a ripple in the illusion.

Jonghyun chuckles, “My face?” 

But Kibum isn’t really in the mood to laugh. 

“Why are you still here?” It comes out harsher than Kibum intended. To Jonghyun, it probably sounds like an order to leave. 

Jonghyun frowns. “Do you want me to go?” He says while trying to unhook his legs from between Kibum’s.

Kibum stops him by putting a hand on his waist and shakes his head, ignoring how Jonghyun didn’t answer his question.

“No. You can stay.”

/

And that’s how it starts—how Kibum’s clear lines begin to blur a little around their edges, how his set boundaries start to shift into shapes he doesn’t have names for. 

Lust begets interest begets devotion.

The mirage is fading.

/

Kibum is a quick study, though he guesses Jonghyun might be quicker. There’s a pattern they fall into—a game of sorts to see who will be the first casualty of their need to remain suspended in the sphere they’ve created—but for the life of him, Kibum can’t figure out how he came to be in Jonghyun’s kitchen making himself coffee on a Tuesday morning.

Somehow he can already tell he’s lost. 

Jonghyun is sitting at the island, watching him in silence, his chin propped in the palm of his left hand. He’s already dressed for work in a light blue button-up and black slacks. The Patek Philippe watch wrapped around his wrist reminds Kibum of the matching one that sits on his vanity back in his apartment.

_if I bought you smth would you wear it?_

_of course hyung_

There are ripples in the illusion.

Kibum finishes mixing the cream and sugar into his coffee and moves to stand in front of Jonghyun at the island. With the hand that’s not holding his mug, Kibum reaches out to tuck a flyaway hair behind Jonghyun’s ear, then lets his fingers tap a rhythm against Jonghyun’s neck.

Jonghyun speaks only after Kibum takes his first sip.

“Do you like me?” he asks, eyes searching.

Kibum replies on reflex, fingers never stopping their dance across Jonghyun’s skin. He’s not even sure he registered the words, only the inflection in Jonghyun’s voice that lets him know he was asking a question that needed an answer. And Kibum only knows one answer.

“Of course, hyung.”

Jonghyun hums and the vibrations make waves through Kibum’s body.

Doubt begets suspicion begets resentment.

“Okay.”

/

Jonghyun’s cum on Kibum’s tongue tastes like sour victory and he enjoys it for a moment, swishing the liquid around in his mouth until he feels like swallowing. Then he gives the tip of Jonghyun’s dick a tiny kiss, smiling when he hears Jonghyun whine from overstimulation. 

This is familiar. This is what Kibum excels at—bringing Jonghyun to the edge of sanity and falling off together. 

_you jump, I jump, right?_

_of course hyung._

The mirage is manifesting.

Jonghyun begs without humility and Kibum catches the thinly veiled adoration when he presses their lips together. When he slowly works Jonghyun open and fucks him into the obsidian sheets—filthy with sweat and semen. Soaked in Jonghyun’s want and Kibum’s need.

Kibum catches it all and holds it close to his chest, closer than Jonghyun’s trembling body in his arms as he chases his own orgasm.

/

The pattern breaks when Jonghyun shows up unannounced and drunk off his ass. Kibum barely has time to pull him past the threshold before his knees give out and he hits the floor in a manner that’s sure to leave bruises in the morning.

Kibum struggles to get Jonghyun back on his feet, but Jonghyun slumps against his chest, not interested in moving at all.

“H-hey, Bummie,” Jonghyun slurs, his breath hot and foul against Kibum’s face. He reeks of something stronger than Soju, more desperate.

Kibum’s anger heats, boils, and evaporates in the seconds in takes Jonghyun to shift from his knees to sitting ass down on the floor, eyes blinking up at Kibum innocently as if he didn’t just stumble into Kibum’s apartment at fuck o’clock in the morning smelling like every seedy bar in Itaewon.

Kibum sits down beside him and sighs, “What the fuck, Jonghyun?”

“Need’d t’see your face,” Jonghyun mumbles through his stupor. Kibum scoffs, but still lets Jonghyun lean his head on his shoulder.

Jonghyun’s words float around in Kibum’s head while he stares at the Charmander plushie on the mantle.

_I needed to see your face._

A statement. Not a question.

A need. Not Kibum’s.

It almost makes him laugh.

“My face?”

Jonghyun nods into Kibum’s neck, whispers, “Do you want me to go?”

The illusion is broken.

“No,” Kibum says, a hand combing through Jonghyun’s damp hair. “You can stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ^^ 
> 
> Comments and Kudos bring a smile to my face and make my heart happy <3
> 
> talk to me on twt: [meliorismel](https://twitter.com/meliorismel/)


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